by T. S. Joyce
“This guy,” Ryder said, dropping him abruptly and shoving Wyatt back to arms’ length. “Fucking North Carolina? That’s where you were hiding this whole time?”
“For the last few years, yeah. Man, the last time I saw you, you were nothin’ but a scrawny pipsqueak,” Wyatt said in disbelief.
“I growed up,” Ryder joked.
“Yeah, but is all this necessary for a snowy owl shifter,” Wyatt said, whacking him on the stony chest.
“Nah, but the ladies love it. I need to have a pretty lure if I want to catch the pretty fishes.”
“Really?” Harper muttered from behind them.
“Have you ever been fishing in your life?” Aaron asked. “That’s not at all how it works.”
“Aaron!” Ryder called out. “Damn, Harper’s calling the riffraff in.” He bolted up onto the porch toward a chuckling Aaron.
Wyatt blew out a breath before he turned to Weston. He’d been the only one who had come and found Wyatt after he’d left. Maybe the others had tried, he didn’t know, but Weston was the best tracker Wyatt had ever known. And for years, the Novak Raven had it in his head that he was gonna bring Wyatt back to Saratoga. They hadn’t parted well on their last encounter.
Weston had a camouflage baseball cap covering his jet black hair, and his eyes were darkened from their normal green to the bottomless black of his inner raven. He wasn’t smiling like the others. Instead, he stood there with his arms crossed over his chest and his face angled, exposing his neck. Wyatt hated that. It was his formal way of respecting Wyatt’s dominant bear, but he wished it was an easier greeting, like the others had given him. He understood, though. This tension was on him.
“I’m here because Harper asked me to be.” Weston offered his hand for a shake, then yanked Wyatt forward. “Hurt her again, and I’ll fucking kill you.”
“Noted,” Wyatt gritted out, pulling his hand from Weston’s and putting space between them.
“Wes,” Harper warned. “He’s made his apologies to me. We’re okay.”
“Yeah, well, you were always the forgiving one, Harper. Don’t mean the rest of us are the same.”
“Let’s get drunk and kill shit,” Aaron said.
Ryder’s hand shot in the air. “Yes, I want to do that.”
“By ‘kill shit’ do you mean stake vampires?” Harper asked.
“Uh, yeah,” Aaron said with a shrug and a baffled expression, like Harper should understand their man-language by now.
Wyatt swallowed his laugh, but mostly for Weston’s benefit since he was still glaring at him.
“Harper, tell me you didn’t get a mom-wagon for your rental car,” Ryder demanded, his face all puckered up at her ride.
“Don’t judge me, bird. It was all they had.”
Ryder sure looked judgmental. “You traded your diesel truck for that shit?”
“You drive a truck now?” Wyatt asked. She’d driven one of those little pastel-colored slug-bugs when she was in high school, solar-powered flower bobble-head included.
“There’s about a million things you don’t know about me now, James,” she said through a cocky grin. When they were kids, she had used his last name when she was flirting with him. Oooh, he wanted to suck that bottom lip until she said his first name again.
Weston shoved him hard, and Wyatt had to catch his balance. “Why are you starin’ at her like she’s a steak. She ain’t yours anymore. Cut that shit out, or I’m leaving.”
“Weeees,” Ryder drawled, eyes rolled heavenward. “Chill out, man. Our Queen Sky Lizard has that same dopey look in her eyes.”
“I really hate when you call me a sky lizard,” Harper muttered.
“I saw a bar on the way in.” With a grin Aaron said, “I can drive us.”
“Yeah, let’s see how many idiots can pile on the back of your bike,” Wyatt said. “I’ll drive.”
“Are you designated driver tonight?” Ryder asked, waggling his eyebrows.
“Might as well be. My liver could use the break.”
“Bender James, back at it again,” Ryder crowed as he sauntered toward Wyatt’s black F-150 parked on the side of the house.
“Bender James?” Wyatt asked, confused as everyone followed Ryder.
“You partied hard when we were teenagers,” Harper explained as she walked past him. “At least your nickname isn’t Sky Lizard.”
Well, there was that. Shaking his head at the strange turn his life had taken in the last couple of days, Wyatt pulled his keys from his back pocket and jogged to catch up with the others.
And as he pulled out of the yard, Ryder opened the window and whooped. And then he yelled into the beyond, “The band is back together!”
“Temporarily,” Weston muttered under his breath in the back.
But when Wyatt looked over at Harper, he was stunned by the moment. There was an easy smile on her lips as she watched the others, and her giggle was so damn beautiful. When she stuck her hand out the window and caught the breeze between her fingers, her eyes twinkled with happiness. Her dark hair floated this way and that, and when she looked at him, he didn’t know how he’d done it. How had he gone this long without seeing her smile like this? How had he survived away from her infectious joy? Harper was so different from anyone he’d ever met. She’d always been to-the-death loyal, strong, and clear-headed. Every decision she made was quick, but right. She had been the glue of their group when they were kids, and now look at her. Even grown, she was still the glue.
After what he’d done, Harper had still hugged him and broke him back into a shape he recognized. She’d brought his friends back, and even if it was only for a short time, he wasn’t going to take a minute of this for granted.
With a grin, he hit the gas and took the truck off-road through the fresh mud. Ryder and Aaron hung out the window, yelling sounds of pure happiness, and Wyatt knew he wasn’t alone in how damn good this felt to be back together.
When Harper yelped and slid closer to him to avoid the splash of mud outside the window, he snaked his arm around her shoulders and kissed her hairline quick.
She grinned up at him, her shoulders shaking with a laugh. She bit his arm playfully and murmured, “You’re welcome,” as if she could tell his affection was a thank you.
From this moment on, no matter what happened, Wyatt was going to be better. He was going to work hard and long to be anything Harper wanted him to be. He was going to work to earn Weston’s respect again and to deserve the embraces Ryder and Aaron had given him.
He wasn’t where he wanted to be, but he was going to get there. They deserved the effort, because even if they left tomorrow, these people right here were his crew.
Chapter Seven
Harper was two drinks shy of three sheets to the wind.
It had been a long time since she’d cut loose, so perhaps she should slow it down a little. Especially since Wyatt was staying true to his word and drinking water.
He smiled for the tenth time in five minutes, and Harper’s heart rate hadn’t settled since he’d kissed her forehead in his truck. She’d expected it to feel like old times if he pressed his lips against her, but it hadn’t. It had felt like new times. Like a new adventure, a new crush, with a new man. The miniature dragons fluttering around in her stomach were proof that she was in deep mud, and sinking deeper with every smile he gave her.
Ryder had his arm over Wyatt’s shoulder, and they were talking non-stop, laughing, teasing each other. The hollow-eyed haunted Wyatt from last night was just a memory, and thank goodness for that. The boy she remembered wasn’t gone…he’d just been a little lost.
“What’s your end game?” Weston asked from right beside her.
Harper startled hard. No one could sneak up on a person like Weston. “What do you mean?”
Weston took a swig of his beer and narrowed his eyes at Wyatt. “Are you really going to forgive him for leaving us like he did? Are you really going to just move on with him like the last ten years didn’t happen? I
watched you pine for him, Harper. I was there watching you hurt. I was there when you started The Unrest. I was there waiting for you to purge him from your system, but you never did.”
“Wait.” Harper closed her eyes and shook her head, trying to sober up. “Do you…like me?”
“You mean would I like to fuck you? Sure. As friends.”
Harper frowned so hard her head started to hurt. “Do people do that? Fuck as friends?”
“Probably. But if you’re asking me if I want to date you, no. You’re one of my best friends, which is why I feel all protective of you. I don’t want you to spend your whole life stuck in the past.”
“Look, whatever happened with you and Wyatt, I’m sorry for it. That won’t affect my decision to be his friend, Wes. He needs us.”
Weston clicked his tongue against his teeth and sighed.
“Do you trust me?” she asked.
“Yeah. I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t,” he uttered in a monotone.
“I appreciate you worrying over me, but I’m a grown woman, and I don’t have a ton of time left.”
Weston jerked his head to her and frowned. “Don’t talk like that, Harper. It’s not funny.”
She smiled sadly. “Wouldn’t joke about something like that.”
“You’ll be fine. Your dragon is just acting out because of the stuff you’ve been through. She’ll get over it.”
“The nosebleeds have started.”
Weston downed his beer, set the empty bottle down too hard, and gestured to Kane for another.
Ignore her all he wanted, but he couldn’t deny the facts. “Okay, what does your dad say?”
Weston’s dad was a mystic with a sight that extended beyond the veil, beyond this realm. He was also one bad motherfucker with a monster grizzly in him. Beaston was never wrong in his visions.
Weston shook his head for a long time and finally said, “My dad isn’t always right, you know. Not everything he says can be taken at face value.”
Harper sucked down half her margarita and sighed. “That sounds like some fragrant bullshit to me, Wes. I want to be happy.” She nudged him in the arm. “Tonight I’m happy, and you and Aaron and Ryder are a part of that. But him”—she gestured to Wyatt—“he’s a big part of it, too. Let me keep my happy and don’t make me feel weak for wanting it.”
Weston gripped the back of her neck and pressed his forehead against hers. He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, then released her and nodded to Aaron.
Thoughtfully, Harper watched them walk toward a trio of pool tables along the back wall. Ryder was now asking Kane why he was wearing sunglasses inside, and she had the distinct feeling that dragon was going to get Ryder talking in circles, so she scooted over to the barstool right next to Wyatt. “Hey stranger.”
“I’m a stranger now, am I? I guess that’s fair.”
“Do you still eat your pizza crust-first?”
His sexy smile reached his eyes, so blue and clear. “I do.”
“Do you still play guitar?”
“I do not. I haven’t picked one up since I left Saratoga.”
“Pity.”
“You always liked guitar players.”
“Did you have lots of girlfriends?” She shouldn’t have asked that, but she couldn’t help her tipsy tongue.
Wyatt took a drink of his bottled water, and when he set it down, the smile had faded from his lips. “Don’t do this.”
“How many?”
Wyatt’s gaze drifted to the pool table, and he ran his hands down his whiskers. “Two. I was a shitty boyfriend, though, and they didn’t last long.”
Did you love them? Did you compare them to me? Did you come close to claiming either of them? All the questions piled up, but she was too chicken to ask, so instead, Harper finished off her margarita and asked Kane for another.
“I liked your text last night,” Kane said as he poured the tequila. “I figured it was you who responded.”
“How’d you figure that,” she slurred.
Kane grinned. His dark hair fell forward, covering his glasses as he squeezed a lime into her drink. “Because Wyatt’s never sent me a dick-pic before.”
“Wait, what?” Wyatt asked, pulling his phone from his back pocket.
“It was a cartoon dick,” Harper said. “And furthermore I have dated, like, a million boys.”
“Boys or men?” Kane asked.
“Stay out of it,” she groused.
“A million is a lot,” Wyatt said, and now anger flashed through his eyes like lightning. “I told you I don’t want to do this. I don’t want to know.”
“Age twenty, I dated Laith Ingram, and we French kissed. A lot.”
“Cut her off,” Wyatt growled out.
Kane grinned brightly and shoved the margarita toward Harper. “I like this side of your girl.”
“She isn’t—”
“Don’t you fucking not-claim me in front of your friend, or I will burn all the hair off your stupid body.”
Kane snorted, Harper slurped at her drink, Wyatt smelled like fur, and everything was great.
With a gulp, she said, “Age twenty-three, I had a one-night stand.”
“Stop it.” Hooo, Wyatt was making the air all heavy.
“I did because I was lonely and I wanted someone to touch me and make me feel good like you used to.”
“This is awesome,” Kane said popping a handful of peanuts from one of the community snack bowls into his mouth.
“Don’t you have drinks to serve, man?” Wyatt asked.
“I think his name was Benjamin, and I almost let him eat me out, but then I changed my mind, and newsflash, he was a sloppy kisser. That night I learned what whiskey dick is, so I came out of there feeling really sexy. It was age twenty-five until I tried that one again, with more success, and I felt like a goddess until about five minutes later when I got sick to my stomach because he wasn’t you.” Harper hiccupped. “Age twenty-six, two weeks after my birthday, I had my first seizure.”
The smile faded from Kane’s lips. Good.
“I had my first bout of The Unrest, so I got scared. Terrified actually. I tried to find you. Wes wouldn’t help me track you, and I hated everyone, my dragon especially because she was doing this to me. And then Derek Hoover, the man I dated out of desperation to save myself, cheated on me with anyone who had a slimy vagina hole.”
“Whoa,” Ryder said from Wyatt’s other side.
Wyatt looked green and wouldn’t meet her gaze anymore.
“So there is the million people I dated. Tell me about Trixie-Nips and Cinnamon.”
Wyatt hung his head and heaved a sigh that tapered into a growl. “Trixie-Nips and Cinnamon were really named Ashley and Emma, and we broke up because they weren’t you.”
“He said your name when he fucked ’em,” Kane said. “Both of them broke up with him in under two weeks. Came in here complaining to me like I could fix him.”
“What the fuck, man?” Wyatt griped. “Piss off! Please, go literally anywhere but here.”
“I’m helping.”
“You’re really not.”
“Actually, he is.” Harper smiled sheepishly. “That does make me feel better.”
“Great,” Wyatt gritted out. He chugged his water and crumpled the empty plastic bottle in his fist like he wished it was Kane’s neck. He chucked the bottle at Kane, who caught it easily, and then Wyatt strode out of the bar without looking back.
“Woman,” Ryder said, staring at the door as it slammed closed, “you sure know how to push them buttons.” He yanked her half empty drink away. “You really are cut off.”
“Don’t tell me what to do.”
“Sloppy,” he said, shaking his head. He was smiling, though, so she shoved him in the arm before she meandered toward the door.
“You gonna make out with Wyatt?” Aaron called across the whole damned bar.
“No!” Probably not. Just in case, though, she snatched a handful of peppermints from the jar by the
door and dropped three trying to unwrap one.
“That’s a yes,” Aaron said as he leaned down to hit another ball into the side pocket.
Weston was watching her with a troubled mother-hen expression, but whatever. She was sotally tober. Sober. Totally sober.
Harper shoved open the exit door and promptly tripped over a rock on the sidewalk. With a yelp, she went down hard, but a few centimeters before her palms hit the ground, a pair of strong arms yanked her backward.
She flopped around in Wyatt’s embrace and grinned up at him. At least, she thought she was grinning. Her lips were numb from the tequila. “My knight in shining camo.”
Wyatt looked down at his camouflage-print thermal sweater and snorted. Setting her upright, he muttered, “You make it really hard to stay angry. I forgot about that part.”
“We always sucked at fighting.”
Wyatt’s eyes were still blazing the color of frost, but he ran his hand over his hair, mussing it as he tried and failed to contain a grin. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you drunk before.”
“I’m not drunk.” The peppermint flopped out of her mouth and hit the ground. Gritting her teeth in concentration, Harper swayed and reached for the candy. “Five second rule,” she mumbled, but Wyatt kicked her sugary target into the street.
“Five second rules don’t count when you drop something sticky in the dirt. It had a leaf on it, Harper.”
Harper rocked her head all the way back and frowned. “You look grossed out. And tall. What are you now? Seven foot eleven inches?”
Wyatt huffed a laugh and shook his head. “That’s a really specific number, and no. I’m six-three. I should probably get you home.”
“Home. Your home?”
Wyatt cleared his throat, and a troubled frown marred his perfect face. “Yeah, my home. That’s what I meant.”
Harper looked at the peppermint in the street, all caked in mud now. “Well…I was going to seduce you, and now the boys will make fun of me. They’ll think I couldn’t close the deal.”
“Close the—woman, what did you think was going to happen?”
“Making-out at the minimum, and maximum, banging in the parking lot. Maybe over there”—she pointed—“where it’s all dark and romantic.”
